


My Everlasting Grief

by WhoIsWren



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Depression, Gen, Good Hair Crew (Andi Mack), Grief/Mourning, Healing, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Suicidal Thoughts, Muffins, Post-Episode: s03e11 One in a Minyan, Protective T. J. Kippen, Sad Cyrus Goodman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 16:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18876937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoIsWren/pseuds/WhoIsWren
Summary: After Bubbe Rose dies, Cyrus isn't really sure what to do with himself. At first, distractions seem like the best way to cope. And for a time it works.Until one day it doesn't and everything goes down hill from there.He's spiraling and no one knows how to help him, but TJ keeps trying.





	My Everlasting Grief

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I’ve been able to write since my sister passed away 5 months ago (if you want to know more I wrote a bit about it in the beginning notes of my Teen Wolf fic ‘Notice Me’ in chapter 11). It was hard to write but I knew I needed to let all these emotions out through writing. A lot of what Cyrus deals with is the exact grieving process I went through/am still going through. The months of denial and productivity, the total apathy for life, the shock that shouldn’t have been, the feeling that everyone else can move on, all of it.  
> Because this was so hard to write I’d like to preface this by saying THIS IS NOT MY BEST WORK. There are sentences far too long, disconnecting timelines, and I repeat myself a lot. I’m aware of the not-so-stellar writing, but trying to make something this personal into a piece of literary art just wasn’t going to happen. 
> 
> Also, what the hell colour are Luke Mullen’s eyes??? I just call them hazel, but wow.  
> Oh, and I use ‘Zayde’ for grandpa, I’m not sure if that’s the correct term for Cyrus’ personal heritage but that’s what Google suggested.

It had been months since the _shiva_ , three to be exact. Cyrus was doing fine during that time, in fact he spend every second of every day focusing on being fine. It felt like he found the perfect way to deal with his loss; by not dealing at all and keeping as busy as humanly possible. Lazy was no longer a word in Cyrus Goodman’s vocabulary, having been replaced with motivated. He’d gotten more done in those three months than he had in the last three years.

Most of his attention was on school; being the top student, acing every test and assignment, finishing all his homework in record time, and completing all the extra credit work he could get his hands on. Time between schoolwork wasn’t left empty for long. If he didn’t already have plans then he _made_ plans.

Cyrus knew he was lucky to have such amazing friends that didn’t hound him with questions on how he was coping or if he was alright; like his parents. He was no fool though. Cyrus was well aware of the concerned glances, the lingering hugs, and the careful way no one talked about their own grandparents. It was just another reason he loved his friends so much, they cared about him without smothering him.

Buffy and Andi participated in near weekly tater theatre epics, without complaint, and their enthusiasm never dwindled. It was some of his best work, if he was being honest. There were tears and many laughs as the golden taters found love, went to outer space, had snail races, or adopted butterflies. During her breaks, Amber would join in with some truly inspired dramatic characters. Cyrus thought she had a good shot at being an actor. Girl was talented.

When they weren’t at The Spoon Cyrus had become an unofficial mascot for the girl’s basketball team. They needed all the encouragement they could get, and while Buffy was improving in that department her anger still got the best of her most days. Cyrus liked to think he was Buffy’s very own WWJD bracelet. Whenever she started getting frustrated with the girls she’d look over at Cyrus’ waiting smile and her tense shoulders would droop. Many explosions were diffused this way. So far no one had run away crying, even if some of them looked like they’d really like to cry; Cyrus takes that as a win.

Despite Buffy and TJ’s combined efforts, Cyrus still knew very little about basketball. Sports in general tended to confuse the teenager. His lack of knowledge didn’t seem to matter much, when the players themselves seemed to know just as little. It just meant he had to put all his efforts into cheering them on whether they did well or not. It worked out perfectly for Cyrus, he was a master cheerer.

He spent a lot of time dancing – or flailing, as Amber called it – around Andi Shack with Andi laughing at his purposefully humorous moves. He liked seeing her laugh, she didn’t do it nearly enough anymore. In between impromptu dance sessions they’d make things. Cyrus’ creations were never the masterpieces that Andi’s were, but they were interesting and unique – just like him. Andi never laughed at his inventions, it made him love her all the more.

Once it became pretty obvious that Cyrus wanted to be kept busy, Jonah offered to teach him how to skateboard again – proper lessons this time. As soon as Jonah promised no more broken bones – because while the experience was essential to any childhood, breaking his thumb _really_ hurt – Cyrus was on board, literally. The first thing Jonah taught him was how to stop.

It took several weeks and more than a few scrapes but eventually Cyrus got the hang of it, he even stopped screaming around corners. Skateboarding may not be his favourite pastime but he found it challengingly exciting. Plus spending time with Jonah was always a plus, even if Cyrus has stopped getting butterflies whenever the dimpled teen smiles.

Surprisingly enough, skateboarding became an odd addition to his normal life. On the rare occasions he wasn’t able to distract his thoughts, with school or friends, he’d take his board to the park and skate for a few hours. It was lonely without Jonah but skateboarding kept his mind and body suitably occupied.

A couple times a week Amber would drag him to the dance studio and continue her attempt to teach him proper dance moves. She was determined to make a dancer out of him. Her dedication was admirable. Though, it was more to do with her reputation than anything to do with him. It was actually really nice to not be the focus of a conversation.

Whenever he hung out with his friends they were always deliberately there for him, doing whatever he wanted and keeping him distracted. It was a lovely gesture and Cyrus is eternally grateful for it. Like most things though, Amber was a league all in her own.

Amber was never one to tread lightly and he could see the struggle on her face every time they hung out. She wanted to ask, to help him the way he had helped her. Despite her internal struggle, Amber never let them get there. It was like a there and gone again moment. She cared, she really did, but it’s such a new concept for her that Cyrus thinks it kind of scares her. Instead of giving in to her new emotions, Amber hides them behind snark and selfish motions. She teaches him to dance for herself, not for him, and makes that abundantly clear every time they practice.

It always makes Cyrus smile thinking about it. Who’d have thought he’d find a true friend in someone like Amber?

On the desperate days when all his friends were busy with other things, Cyrus would play D&D with Gus. Of course, Cyrus would lose every time but the more he played the more he could see why Gus liked it so much. Over the weeks Cyrus began thinking of Gus as a friend and convinced Jonah to play as well. One of these days Cyrus was going to beat Gus, and that day will be hard won and glorious.

Mostly though, Cyrus spends time with TJ, not that he minds that of course. Before all this happened TJ had been a pretty important part of Cyrus’ life, and he’s happy to know that this event didn’t change that. If anything, TJ was around more and upped his affection to eleven.

TJ seemed to instinctively know that Cyrus didn’t want to be around the swings. It may hold sentimental value to them – the place where he and TJ began their friendship – but it’s also the place he goes to think about his stuff. Cyrus is vehemently avoiding thinking about this _stuff_. Instead they study together, play ping pong – the only sport Cyrus is better at than TJ – or they laugh at old horror movies with the tragic effects and over dramatic actors. Sometimes Cyrus will hang out at TJ’s work and play with the kids. TJ helped him tick off a few items on his not-exactly-a-bucket-list and once they even went dirt bike riding, sans Reed.

Basically Cyrus’ life was going great, he was doing amazingly in school, his friends were the best, and his crush seemed more and more like it was reciprocated.

Therefore it made no sense whatsoever when Cyrus woke up one morning and instantly wished he didn’t.

His body felt heavy, like his organs were made of cement, and the weight kept him sinking into the mattress. Upon opening his eyes, Cyrus didn’t even have the energy to groan. Eyes unseeing he stared at nothing, his mind and body utterly empty.

Depression was an old friend to Cyrus at this point. He’s been dealing with the fog all his life, battling his own version of the illness with self-deprecating jokes and a family of shrinks. He’s never been afraid of the darkness and he’s never let it fully consume him. Having beaten it a hundred times before, this time should have been a cake walk.

But this felt different.

This wasn’t his usual brand of depression – mild suicidal thoughts, no self-confidence, and a dark voice in his head telling him he’d never be good enough – this was darker, heavier, and worryingly more serious; if he had the energy to worry, that is.

 _Energy_ ; that was the glaring difference this time. Going through the motions like a well-oiled machine was how Cyrus usually dealt with his specific brand of depression. Within seconds he knew that tactic wouldn’t work with this darker strand.

He didn’t have the energy to get out of bed, let alone put on a happy act. He couldn’t strut the Jefferson Middle School halls, couldn’t smile and joke with his friends, and couldn’t even care enough to put their worries to rest.

He felt like a robot that first day. Rolling out of bed he put on clothes that he knew looked good but didn’t make him feel one way or the other. He double checked his hair before leaving the house, not because he worried about his appearance but because that’s what he’s always done. Greeting Andi and Buffy with a smile that felt stiff and unnatural, Cyrus pretended to be interested in the latest family drama from Andi and how the girls’ basketball team still sucked but were actually getting better.

Cyrus remembers loving his friends and drinking in their stories like a man dying of thirst. His heart was now cold as stone and just as unfeeling. Smiling at the right times and throwing in a joke when called for were things Cyrus did because that was his job. Honestly, he couldn’t have cared less about Andi or Buffy.

A thought like that should have scared him, but again, he felt nothing.

When Cyrus got home after that first day he burst into tears knowing he’d have to do it all over again tomorrow. He’d have to smile and laugh, he’d have to pretend to listen to his teachers and his friends, pretend that his lunch food didn’t take like ash and make him want to vomit. Most of all, he’d have to pretend that everything was fine.

It was day one and Cyrus was already utterly exhausted and wanted it all to be over.

“What’s with you lately? It’s like you’re actually thinking before you speak, it’s weird,” Buffy commented with her usual bone-dry humour after a week of Cyrus stumbling through life.

If you asked him what happened during that week, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. Every second of every day was such a struggle that they all blended into one. Drops that merged into a puddle swirled into one full of misery.

There was a part of Cyrus that remembered he should be feeling a bit of a panic at being caught out, but it was just a memory. Instead he smiled tiredly at Buffy and put as much emotion into his voice as he could muster.

“I just binged this new Dinosaur documentary series on Nat Geo the other day and I haven’t caught up on sleep yet,” he lied. “Hey, did you know that the only example of a Seismosaurus actually chocked to death on a stone, and some small dinosaurs sounded like ostriches, and…”

Just as he’d suspected, Buffy’s eyes glazed over and her worries disappeared. Spouting off his vast dinosaur knowledge was the fastest way he knew to distract his friends from digging too deep. None of them were interested in dinosaurs, but they knew Cyrus was. So they seemed to generally conclude that if Cyrus was still obsessed about dinosaurs then everything was right with the world. A dino fact or two and his friends moved on like nothing was ever amiss. Cyrus knew he should feel bad about deceiving his friends like that. He also knew he should feel hurt about them taking his lies at face value and not looking any deeper. He didn’t have the energy for either emotion. All he wanted to do was get his school day over with so he could crawl back into bed and stare at his ceiling for hours until he succumbed to sleep.

This particular level of apathy continued on for nearly two months. Each step he took felt like he was walking on nails. Every smile and laugh got harder and harder to fake, until they felt so brittle Cyrus was sure they’d crumble. His grades were pretty much in the toilet, so much so he’s surprised the school hasn’t contacted his parents yet.

For the first time in his life Cyrus is lucky that the people around him are too busy to notice him.

His parents, both sets of them, are constantly running around after their clients and trying to make their unusual family work. They check on how he’s doing but it’s blatantly obvious that their minds are somewhere else. Not troubling them with his issues seems like a kindness.

Buffy’s always been a very focused person and thusly keeps herself preoccupied with getting straight A’s, turning the girls’ basketball team into champions, and making her budding relationship with Marty solid enough to withstand anything. Her life is hectic enough without Cyrus adding to it.

Andi, on the other hand, it’s not so much focused as she is dramatic. Her life is constantly filled with either boy drama or family drama. It’s a wonder she has enough mental capacity to put together cute outfits every day.

Jonah is neither focused nor dramatic, he’s just oblivious. Cyrus doesn’t want to ruin that. Ignorance is forever and always bliss.

TJ ruins his attempt at disappearance though. The jock superstar has plenty of important things in his life that need attention – basketball and conquering his dyscalculia, just to name a few – but unfortunately TJ has decided Cyrus belongs on his _‘important stuff’_ list. Cyrus should feel flattered and lightheaded, but he’s too lethargic to even attempt it.

For the past several months TJ has shown up at Cyrus’ locker with a chocolate chocolate-chip muffin every Monday and Thursday – the hardest days of a school week in Cyrus’ opinion. They’d smile and stare at each other and smile some more. It was the highlight of Cyrus’ day, now he almost dreads it.

For some reason – though Cyrus knows exactly why – lying to TJ feels worse than lying to anyone else. He doesn’t have it in him to fake smiles for TJ, it makes him feel all twisted up on the inside. Instead, looking into those vulnerable hazel eyes, Cyrus wants to break down and cry because he knows TJ will always catch him. But that way lies madness. Cyrus isn’t sure he’s ready to confront his depression and work through it. Fear takes hold with an iron grip. He knows it’ll be an ugly and painful process, and right now being swallowed up by the darkness feel a lot safer.

So he doesn’t fake smiles for TJ or distract him with dinosaur facts. He grimaces, whispers his words, and walks away. Though it nearly kills him every time, walking away is better than breaking down in the hallway and letting it all out. Or so he keeps telling himself.

The muffins never stop, nor do the smiles. After two weeks of Cyrus brushing TJ off, he thought the basketballer was just oblivious to his not-at-all subtle hints. But TJ didn’t stick around because he was clueless; he stuck around because he saw through Cyrus’ mask and refused to back down. A _small_ , hidden part of Cyrus wanted to jump for joy that someone finally noticed. A much larger part of Cyrus was terrified.

So he tried even harder.

He stopped accepting the muffins – that always showed up on his front step anyways – and he stopped talking to TJ all together. The harder he pushed TJ away the harder it got to keep his mask on. All his energy went into avoiding TJ Kippen that he’d started to drop his _‘I’m fine’_ façade in front of his friends.

He could see it in their worried faces and how their eyes always slid over to him – checking on him, wondering if he was as alright as he professed. He wasn’t, and they were beginning to see it.

Four weeks after the depression hit, Cyrus stopped pretending all together.

It felt like he was walking through quicksand and his ears were stuffed with cotton balls. Everything was dulled and keeping his dry eyes open was a constant struggle. He stopped smiling, stopped laughing, stopped lifting his eyes from the ground, he had even mostly stopped speaking. It got to the point where he could go through a whole day and have only spoken a handful on words. On the days he didn’t say a single word he almost felt like smiling. _Almost_.

When all his diversion fell away so did the stress. For the first time in months, _heck,_ even years if he’s being honest with himself, Cyrus felt calm and peaceful. His mind was blessedly quiet, his normal racing heart had slowed and the world around him drifted away. He was vaguely aware of what was happening around him and knew his friends were getting scared. When they’d ask if he was alright he’d tell them he was fine, other times he didn’t even hear them.

Cyrus wanted to scream and shout, to rage and wail, but he didn’t have the energy. A real life dinosaur could have appeared right in front of him and he’d just keep walking. Baby Taters no longer tasted like heaven and he’d forgotten to be anxious about little everyday life things.

In short, Cyrus Goodman didn’t even feel like Cyrus Goodman anymore. He was a stumbling shell of himself and he didn’t know how to get back – or if he even _wanted_ a way back.

It all came to a head, six weeks into his depressive episode (as he’d taken to calling it). When TJ cornered him at the park on his way home from school, Cyrus can’t say he’s surprised. What does surprise him is the fire in TJ’s eyes. Cyrus finds he can’t look away from those eyes, but he’s not sure he _ever_ could.

“I know you’re hurting and whether you want help or not, I’m going to be by your side,” TJ swallowed and his voice took on a wobble. “I really wanna see you smile again, Cyrus.”

Cyrus doesn’t know what happened or why he does it, but suddenly and all at once he’s cradled in TJ’s arms bawling his eyes out.

Maybe it was the eyes, so full of love and fire.

Maybe it was the words, simple yet meaningful.

Or maybe, it was just TJ.

 Cyrus cries and he cries, great heaving sobs that tear his throat. Beneath his face, TJ’s jersey gets coated in tears, saliva, and snot. He clings to TJ like a lifeline but TJ holds him anyway. One arm securely wrapped around Cyrus’ waist as the other hand strokes up and down his back. TJ sways with the autumn breeze and hums an old song from the 90’s. It’s soothing, yet Cyrus still weeps.

They stay like that for nearly an hour, TJ never ceasing his swaying or his humming.

Reluctant to pull away from the safety of TJ’s arms, Cyrus takes his time coming back to himself. First he breathes in deeply, partly to catch his breath and partially to capture the scent of TJ. It’s spicy and smells like the ocean, wild and free.

Then he unclenches his hands, his fingers creak in protest. His hands are stiff and his arms sore but slowly he slides them away from TJ’s body.

Finally, and with a heavy heart, Cyrus pulls back from the heat and security of TJ’s embrace. Every inch separating them feels like a loss and Cyrus would like nothing more than to bury himself in TJ’s arms once again.

Cyrus is more grateful than he’s willing to admit for TJ’s hands remaining on his shoulders. It feels as if he would crumble if TJ ever let go.

Ducking his head, Cyrus can’t bear to look at TJ. Afraid of what he might find on that beautiful face – pity, disgust, regret – Cyrus keeps his eyes on the grass below their sneakered feet. Distraction pulls him away from his embarrassment for a moment as he doesn’t even remember putting on sneakers this morning. How deep is he in his depression not to notice something like that?

“Hey,” TJ whispers as he moves his hands. They slide up the top of Cyrus’ shoulders, up his sensitive neck, and stop to cradle his wet face. Warmth spreads wherever TJ’s hands have touched him making him shiver.

Gently TJ tilts Cyrus’ head up, urging their eyes to meet. Cyrus finds he’s often helpless to resist TJ and drags his eyes up the teenager’s athletic body. Slowly his eyes make their way to TJ’s chiselled face and those beautiful hazel eyes. Breath stuttering in his chest, Cyrus is shocked by what he finds on TJ’s face.

No pity, no disgust, and no regret. In fact, if he had to name the look on TJ’s face he’d hesitantly call it love. That soft, adoring, and eternally understanding look nearly breaks him all over again; while simultaneously healing his wounded heart.

Still cupping his face, TJ uses his thumbs to wipe away the softly flowing tears of Cyrus’ melancholy. Most people would never imagine that superstar athlete, TJ Kippen, could be so sweet and caring. Gentle would be the last thing people would describe TJ as. Cyrus has always known this side of TJ, the boy behind the façade.

Now, he’s letting TJ see behind his own mask.  The Geek Cyrus is just as much a performance as TJ the Jock. People always expect them to act in certain ways, even if that’s not who they are as a person.

Deep inside, TJ’s not a bully; he couldn’t even hurt a fly. No really, Cyrus has seen it.

Once at the library Cyrus watched TJ lead a fly right out the front door instead of swatting it like everyone else would have. Cyrus thinks that was the moment he stopped pretending to himself that what he felt for TJ was strictly platonic.

Likewise, deep inside, Cyrus feels like he isn’t the funny geek. Instead there’s this; the tsunami of darkness. Having spent so long hiding this part of himself from everyone, Cyrus isn’t even sure who he really is. He’s never given himself permission to be his authentic self. Yet here is he is now, laying it all out in the open for TJ to see.

“I’m not so good at the comforting thing. I don’t know whether to ask if you’re okay or to avoid the question all together? I don’t know if you wanna talk or not, but I’ll follow your lead. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Cyrus, his eyes wide and wet and with his heart in his throat, looks at TJ’s soft smile and feels his walls crumbling. Not a single thought goes through his mind, and yet the words start pouring out.

“She died and I don’t know what to do anymore.” His voice shakes and his eyes well up again, but it’s the first time he’s said the words aloud. Even though it breaks his heart and makes it a hundred times more real, it also feels like a relief. He’s been holding this in for months but now he can set it free.

TJ wipes away the few tears that escaped before taking Cyrus’ hand and leading him over to a nearby park bench. They sit close, TJ turning slightly to face Cyrus. He never lets go of Cyrus’ hand.

It takes a moment of breathing deeply and keeping his mind blank before Cyrus has the courage to continue.

“She taught me so much and I’ve never known a world without her. It’s like I’m a kid again, learning about the big bad world, only this time there’s no one to protect me.”

He can feel the tears returning, feel the way they tighten his throat and steal his breath. Looking at their still joined hands, Cyrus focuses on the differences between his hand and TJ’s.

“I kept trying to be busy, because if I was busy then I wouldn’t think about how she’s gone. But I just couldn’t do it anymore. I was so tired of pretending that I just… stopped.”

His hand is smoother than TJ’s, the texture softer and the surface less calloused.

“I don’t know why or how, but I just woke up and it hit me all at once. My Bubbe died. My Bubbe is dead.”

A tear falls onto the back of TJ’s hand, the basketballer doesn’t even seem to notice. He just squeezes Cyrus’ hand softly and waits.

“You know I should have seen this coming. I mean I did, but I didn’t _want_ to. She’d been sick for so long, we all knew she wouldn’t survive this forever. You could see how bad she was, all skin and bones like those old movie skeletons.” Cyrus can’t even muster a smile at his sad attempt to lighten the mood. “But then she died and I was so shocked, I didn’t think it was possible. How could she be there one minute then gone the next?”

TJ’s fingers are thicker than Cyrus’, stronger. But Cyrus’ pale digits are longer. It’s entirely unsurprising that TJ’s hands are a shade darker than his own. Cyrus tends to avoid the outdoors, especially if he’s not wearing sunscreen.

“I just, I can’t get past it.  Everyone else seems to be able to move on and live their life like nothing happened. But I can’t do that, she was too important for that. I keep wanting to call her and tell her about my day or go to her house and drink hot chocolate. But then I remember that she’s gone and it’s like a knife in my heart and everything stops.”

TJ’s fingernails are bitten short compared to Cyrus’ well-manicured nails. _There’s no shame is grooming_ , his mother always said. Maybe he should take TJ to his next nail appointment?

“I just don’t know what to do anymore. I’m so tired of everything. I just want it all to stop.”

Suddenly it’s like he’s run out of words. For the first time in his life the well’s run dry. After a few moments of Cyrus silently shaking his head, TJ squeezes his hand again.

“I’m sorry you’re hurting and I’m sorry your Bubbe’s gone. But you know, she’s still with you,” TJ softly says, only stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar term. Cyrus looks up at him with watery eyes. “I’m sure she’s watching over you and she’ll never stop. No one’s really gone unless we forget them, you know? So tell me about her. What was she like?”

For a moment Cyrus just blinks at TJ, not understanding the request. When it finally registers in his mind, Cyrus laughs through a new wave of tears. It hurts but he smiles, the first real smile in months.

For the next hour Cyrus tells TJ all about Bubbe Rose.

He talks about how she loved thrift shopping and if she could she would have spent all her time in those stores. Her house was practically over flowing with thrifted clothes and bags, scarves and shoes, and many a knick-knack. Some of them still had their tags.  

He tells TJ about the game they made up together when he was little and how they’d play it every time she stayed at her house. The rules and points system were always changing but she never complained. She would indulge him for hours with that game and never refused a rematch, despite her busy life.

His Bubbe was kind, he mentions, kindest person you’d ever meet. Beneath that kindness, though, was a lion just waiting for its chance to roar. He’d never seen his Bubbe truly mad, but he could see it in her face sometimes whenever his parents said something stupid. She would tsk and roll her eyes, but every time she caught Cyrus looking at her she’d smile and wink at him.

He spoke about how much she loved dressing up in pretty dresses and going dancing, even if her body didn’t move like it used to. She loved the music and the movement. Mostly she loved having fun with her husband, the love of her life.

Bubbe Rose was a selfless woman that didn’t want a fuss to be made about her, preferring her children and grandchildren to have all the attention. Even when she got sick she didn’t want a fuss made. She’d constantly tell everyone she was fine when they could all see that it wasn’t.

She was the best person he knew and no one could ever replace her.

When his voice is croaking and his eyes drooping, TJ leads him home. Their hands stay clasped the whole way and on his front porch, TJ kisses his cheek.

The next morning Cyrus feels a little more alive. Everything is still an effort and he’s constantly tired, but he cares now. Piece by piece he’s coming back to himself, and every day TJ wants to learn a fact about Bubbe Rose.

They keep holding hands, and TJ kisses his cheek at least once a day. None of their friends even bat an eye at the displays of affection.

They do eventually have _the talk_. TJ officially asks him to be his boyfriend when they’re walking along the beach watching the sun set – just like how Zayde and Bubbe began their romance. Cyrus started crying, TJ freaked out, but they ended the walk with their first kiss and a new relationship.

Cyrus isn’t magically healed of his depression and the grief still clings to him. Each day he’s reminded that Bubbe Rose isn’t on this world anymore and it hurts just as badly as the first time. There are days when he can hardly speak, too overcome with the loss. Then there are other days when he smiles and laughs and it only hurts a little bit.

His Bubbe may be gone, but she’ll never leave his heart. He’ll remember her always and love her forever.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh gosh, I was crying, I was a mess. Holy cow, it hurts. It was both therapeutic and traumatic. After writing this I had to go watch Schitt’s Creek to make myself feel better, it marginally worked. 
> 
>    
> [My Tumblr](http://www.nothing-personal-my-dear.tumblr.com)


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